Diary Of A Madman
by Kefka Palazzo - God of Magic
Summary: Care to take a peek inside my mind? Well, go on then. Have at it! But I don't think you'll like what you find in there.
1. Chapter 1

**Diary Of A Madman**

Disclaimer: All Final Fantasy characters, names and locations belong to Square Enix. I own nothing that you recognize.

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Dearest diary,

Are you depressed? Any feelings of hopelessness or despair? I glanced at Terra and she said, "No, he causes it." I laughed at that. I laughed at many things. More than I can ever remember, more than I have before in that situation. But yes, my annual evaluation and paperwork. More goddamned paperwork than I've had to fill out before.

The woman behind the counter said I have to fill out the paperwork once a year, but I've been doing this for years and I've never had to fill out paperwork before. Terra repeated what the woman told me while we were waiting in the exam room. "They said you have to do it once a year, Kefka." And I'm sitting there with a clipboard and all these papers in my lap. I told her it would probably take the rest of the year to fill them out. She laughed at that.

And then! Then before that I'm running to the counter when they call my name and I'm telling Terra come with me! Come with me! But she's too busy digging through her bag and I don't LIKE IT WHEN SHE IGNORES ME.

But it was a fun outing. No more horrendous than usual. Said they wanted me to come back in three months for more tests. Ha! I don't think so. Six months. That's what I can do. They said three and I felt it... The anger, the hatred. I heard it in my voice though it sounded so distant, separated from myself. For a minute I didn't even realize that I'd clenched my fists and that my hands had started to shake.

But it's funny. No, I'm not depressed. I don't want to kill myself, I only want to kill everyone around me. How's that? Sound better? One day I might tell them. One day I might let them know.

~ Palazzo


	2. Chapter 2

Diary,

I have a condition. I have a medical condition. I want to say it, but I'm afraid of what would happen once those words slip out. So of course it makes more sense to laugh. I do that sometimes. Sometimes a lot. And he asks if I've been keeping my journal. He asks the same question over and over, the same questions. But I wonder if he ever really listens.

Do any of them? It's their voices I hear inside my head sometimes. And every time I bang my head against the wall the same question repeats.

Ask yourself why, Kefka. Why were you put in here.

But why not do things differently? When I turn, I don't see them behind me. Only so much more. I would rather do things differently. Take his head and ram it against the ceiling. Climbing the walls they say. I imagine what that would be like. I try to imagine in great detail how it might feel if I were to drive the doctor's head against the wall. Something like an old cantaloupe I imagine. Similar in size and weight.

I also wonder if it would be satisfying. How long it would sustain me. Just for a while. And then I close my eyes and slide down on to the floor. But the juices are not warm, not at all like blood. No. Not even in my mind because I know better. And why? Because I'm smarter than they think. _Because I have a condition._

Kefka


	3. Chapter 3

Diary...

We're all clowns, aren't we? Yes, I think so. Hiding behind a mask, always doing what society wants us to do. Because we mustn't do anything that's unacceptable.

And for what? We lie to people. We say we wish them well to be polite. Spare me the pleasantries. We say that shirt looks good even though it looks like someone used it to wipe their ass. Oh no, don't admit to them how horrible they look. And what does this say about society as a whole? That's it's okay to lie?

I have fallen into that. How long I've been pretending so that she may never know. If she laughs then it's alright. A colorful clown for her amusement. Why not? Haven't I already fallen so far as to never look back? I only want to make her happy.

She doesn't have to cry for me but she does. I'd rather make her laugh. Laugh with me, Terra, yes yes go on now. Get up, little one. I want you to sing and dance. I want to... I will. I only wanted her to be happy...

~ clown


	4. Chapter 4

[PAGE RIPPED OUT]


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Diary,

I made her laugh today. It's all I ever wanted. Maybe she's too young to realize what's going on inside of me. But Terra is an intelligent girl. I have to give her more credit than that.

I put on my many colored robe. I put feathers in my hair and I put on an a show for her. I started to laugh. Part of my medical condition they told me. Just shove the card in their face and all will be explained. But I can make it work. I can make it part of my act, part of my clown performance. Let her think I'm having a good time. And I am really.

I even stood up and started acting out the part. Have to keep moving or else my legs start to ache. I can laugh through my pain. I can laugh no matter if I want to or not. She can laugh through her tears. I don't know if those were tears of joy or genuine sorrow. But she tried to hide them from me, I think.

Foolish. You can't hide anything from me.

~ Kefka


	6. Chapter 6

Diary,

I want to be like them. I think I am. How many hours did I spend last night? Cid caught me again, my fingers pressed against the glass, staring, catatonic. He used that word. How very wrong he is.

They do not realize how much I know, how much of the world around me that I am aware of. My senses keen, sharpened, like the blade I long to plunge into his belly. I want to be like them, the Espers, and sometimes I am.

I can see it, what they've done to me. When I look down and see the fireball forming in my hand, when I feel that spark there is always something more that only I can see. Claws, those are my blades. Mine. All mine. Just like these wings. I can feel them. And when I sit alone in the shower I want to peel away the layers, bleeding all of this out to make it known to the world.

Scraping... I am becoming one of them. And still I laugh when Cid grabs my wrist and asks about the blood under my fingernails. I laughed in his face and I enjoyed it. Oh, how I love the expression on his face. I only wish you could have seen it. God, I love their reactions! Sometimes that's half the fun, I think. The rest is to hear them screaming.

Because the blood could be mine but it doesn't have to be. It's not like they'll ever know anyway. They'll never care.

I do it all the time now. Sitting and bleeding and laughing and bleeding and laughing and all they think is that hES GETTING BETTER CANT YOU TELL CAN'T YOU SEE IT really now? Am I? Am I really? Because I don't think so. And whose definition of better are we talking about? Better in terms of my magical ability but I sit there and I bleed, until I hear Terra sobbing outside the bathroom door. Hiding behind the door.

I very nearly kicked her out of the way, but if she won't come in then that's her own fault. Doesn't want to see me that way. Or know what I've become. She knows. She sees these claws and she knows what I want.

I want to kill. I want to kill kill kill and I want to make their blood my own. Because it is. It is it has been inside of me all along so why not? What else am I doing but spilling their blood and my own because it is the same thing. That's why no one ever thinks about it. Because they don't care what they do to these creatures, so why should they care what they do to me?

~ KefkA


	7. Chapter 7

Diary,

I think that's what it's like, an excess of energy, driving me forward. Where does it come from and where does it go? Where does any of this come from and does it even matter? I think not.

But they love it, they do. Some of them. Gesthal let me to do it.

It is more than no, _I_ am more than a desire to hurt things. It is not just a thought, it isn't _just_ something I have the urge to do. It is more than thought or emotion or desire. It is a living and breathing entity. You take on its life force and you feel that energy building deep inside. It makes you move. It makes you want to lunge and strike.

So he let me strike. He stood there and watched. And yes yes, I could hit a pillow as I've been instructed to do. By Cid. But once you fantasize about the feel of bones breaking, wondering what that glorious snap would sound like... After a while pillows aren't satisfying. Walls aren't satisfying. They each have their own unique crunch. And I want to savor the variety.

~ Kefka


	8. Chapter 8

Diary,

That's what madness is to me, endless cycles of energy and exhaustion. The deeper you go, the more energy you have, the longer it lasts and the worse you feel when you finally come back down.

They wonder what's wrong with me. I don't care. I've lost the ability to express myself. It's all vague hand gestures sometimes. Lethargic. Must be on a downhill slide, I guess. Because that was my night yesterday. God, how I hate those artificial lights in there! It's like a bunch of neon lightning bugs hovering over a fish tank.

That's where I was when I collapsed. Don't even remember how I got there. I remember the cold glass pressed against the side of my face, the neon lights the neon lights always the fluorescent neon lights so pretty sometimes when you're in that kind of a void or fog or whatever you want to call it.

But yes, I feel that energy surging again as I write this. And I was there, in the laboratory. Don't even think I could feel my legs or feet. Just the cold, and the muttering voices. I think that cold was trying to say something to me. Shiva. It wasn't just the glass containment vessel, it was deeper.

Numb from cold and drugs and experiments. But I can still hear. They haven't silenced them. So I stood there in a numb haze, just petting the glass, listening. I'm always listening to them. Then Cid grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around. "What are you doing here, Kefka?" As if it's any of his business.

But when I feel that energy building it's not as if I can do anything about it. And when it leaves I can barely move. Can't feel the world around me, can't connect with the people there. I can't even feel myself sometimes. Am I even real?

Cid wiped the drool off my chin. I was staring at the ceiling, laughing, just a little. A morbid chuckle, feeble. I felt the hand that held me but not the floor beneath my feet. Not until it hit my knees and my palms felt cold steel, cold rivets. Hated that cold. Couldn't stand it. Hate hate hate

It's always so cold here why I never liked it. I despise all of humanity. If he had left me alone, if I hadn't been so goddamn tired, enough to harness a single spark of what I felt. That's why I like the fire. The cold is isolating. It is alone. I wonder why she likes to play with it.

~Kefka

P.S. I probably left a smudge. Go clean your tanks, Cid!


End file.
